Shadows of Canterlot
by Brasta Septim
Summary: Peace is kept amongst the squabbling factions of the city only by the will of the Princesses, the grace of the Athanatoi, and the backbone and quick wit of the stallions and mares of the Equestrian government that put duty ahead of trivial squabbles. This is their story. Be warned; the following story will almost certainly contain lots of sex, violence, and political intrigue.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Like with all great upheavals, it began with a war. Well, it couldn't quite be called a _war_ ; more like a scaled-up barroom brawl in which one third of the room is fighting, another third is waiting for an opportunity to join the fray, and the other third either wants the fight to stop or is betting on which poor drunken bastard looks the meanest.

Taking all that into account, a ranged skirmish was probably the best way to describe what was going on at the moment; though it was more symbolic of the larger picture of the genuine quasi-war that had been bubbling beneath the surface for decades. Today, though, it all seemed to come to a head.

Beneath the great dome of Canterlot's Parliament House, in the shadow of the great Temple of Concordia, divine Lady of Peace, a most curious fracas had broken out in the middle of the floor. Dozens of noble Senators fought with each other: the unicorns lobbing any available object across the room with the force of their magic, pegasi grappling with each other in the air in positions that would make most athletes wince in sympathy, and the earth ponies simply attempting to pummel the others into submission by hoof. This went on in full splendour, as some of the sparring nobles fell to the ground, exhausted and battered, their fellows barely batting an eye long enough to avoid trodding them underhoof. Just to put the frosting on the cake, the glorious cacophony of grunts, groans, and yelps of pain was all accompanied by the barely-audible, though constant, shouts of the Senate's Speaker for order.

On the opposite side of the room, most of the Tribunes, or plebeian members of Parliament, were busy discussing amongst themselves what to do about the business at hand before the fight had broken out, joined by a couple dozen of the more sensible Senators who'd managed to make it unharmed (or unnoticed) from the Senators' benches. "What in Concordia's name are we supposed to about this? Parliament's still in session until our fellow idiots get their act together and close it properly, and we can't actually _do_ anything unless they vote on it!" piped up Night Light of House Sparkle, a fairly minor Senator with enough sense to get away from the fracas before it even began.

Chancellor Fancy Pants adjusted his cracked monocle, his purple-striped robe looking a little worse for wear as well, before glancing back across at his fellow Senators. "I think we could, actually." The little smile on his face grew into a devilish smirk no one but two of the ponies there had seen before, prompting the Tribunes to look up at him with curiosity and mild alarm.

One of the Tribunes, Arpeggio, simply gave him an incredulous look. "Your Grace, with all due respect, if an argument over _granary construction_ nearer the city sent these idiots fighting tooth and nail, I don't think they're going to shut up and listen long enough to vote. Clearly, this lot was just looking for a fight today; and don't look like anything's going to stop 'em, either."

Fancy Pants' smirk, however, did not subside. Instead, he looked over at one of the Senators who'd been doing her best to avoid being noticed by anypony. "Blue Belle, what does the law say about voting in Parliament sessions; specifically, emergency procedures?"

The mare did her best to cut her brief impression of a gaping fish at being called on short, and cleared her throat nervously, her eyes fixed on the panels of the coffered ceiling. "W-well, Article XV, Section B reads that, in a state of absence or incapacitation of m-most of the Senate, a two-thirds majority vote in the Tribunal, with the Chancellor presiding, will suffice to c-carry a m-motion until the Senate c-can..." Her mouth promptly shut as she realised what she'd said, and Fancy Pants' smirk became downright smug as he looked around at his fellow members of Parliament, giving nods of understanding as the implications dawned on them.

"Very well then; we'll just have to get business done without them this time, won't we?" He said with a roguish wink that, though they would never admit it, flustered a few of his colleagues just a tad. "All in favour of clearing the ruins of those moldy old warehouses, and building new granaries closer to the city?" All the Tribunes assembled, as well as their handful of Senator colleagues, raised a hoof. A certain blonde stallion beamed proudly at the Chancellor's quick thinking. "None opposed?" He paused for a moment, then glanced back at the madding crowd behind him to see if any of them were paying attention. Thankfully, they were not; though one of them had apparently managed to get ahold of the formal wands of office and had begun beating all and sundry within striking range with a bundle of them. Fancy winced at the sound of cracking wood; there was more Treasury money down the drain, he thought as he turned back around to the others with a painfully neutral smile. "Motion carried. Senator Blue Belle?" The mare nodded meekly.

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"Write up the report of today's proceedings for me to send to the Princesses. _Both of them_." He gave the other side of the room a pointed look. "I'd particularly love to see what Princess Luna has in store to correct this mob of brawlers, I'm sure." The few Tribunes and Senators who'd seen Princess Luna at the height of her Parliament-induced fury before snickered audibly; there was a certain lovely sense of schadenfreude about watching most of the most powerful men in the city reduced to a whimpering supplicants by the mere force of a Diarch's shouting. As long as it wasn't directed at them, anyway.

And so, as the fracas continued, the remaining mares and stallions on the peaceful side of the room slipped out the back entrance quickly and quietly, knowing they would soon be at a safe distance from the chaos of the Parliament House, and the very loud royal chastisement soon to follow.

 _Just another ordinary day in Canterlot,_ Fancy thought.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The hustle and bustle in the capital city on a busy day wasn't as rushed or crowded as in other cities, one might observe. Ponies draped in silks and linens, perfectly suitable for the summer months, made their way up and down the shrub-lined boulevards, on the lookout for the nearest stall or shop that looked appealing. Vendors shouted out their wares at the top of their lungs, putting the most eye-catching items on display in front of them.

It was through this crowd that Fancy Pants made his way home, his formal senatorial robe replaced with a more casual vest and tucked into his saddlebag to not attract too much attention while on a simple walk. He'd had enough excitement for one day, after all.

Bright fabrics with rich embroidery lay stacked in bolts in front of their stalls, occasionally unrolling long enough for the disgruntled vendor to have to chase after one. _Poor Lilly Love_ , he thought. _She's always knocking over one thing or another when she gets too enthusiastic during a sale._ Red amphorae with intricate patterns painted onto them stood upright with bronze and copper vases and jugs, burnished to shine in the late afternoon sun. A very wide range of jewelry lay assorted on a velvet cushion atop one vendor's stall, though the disgruntled look on the mare's face told him she hadn't been having a very good day, either.

He stopped for a moment, glancing back and forth between the jewelry vendor and a wine seller right across from her. Bellona's breath, he needed a drink or two anyways. And he had been looking for a present for Fleur before he left for the Parliament session; now was as good a time as any to get one. Oh, and something for Night Light and Twilight Velvet, too.

With his usual cheerful smile, he walked up to the jeweler, glanced down at her wares, and quickly produced a purse half-full with bits. "How much for that, my good lady?"

* * *

Fleur de Lis reclined on her couch in what most would call a regal pose, gazing into the depths of the shallow pool in the middle of her house's atrium, and discreetly ignoring the sound of loud, boisterous _recreational activities_ in the bedroom on the north side of theroom. She shook her head with an amused smile, suddenly glad for the many scented wax candles she'd set around the house. She looked back up to find the other two mares in the room still chatting away. "I've told you a hundred times North, you can't let those nastier get to you too much. I mean, after all, you were paid fair and square for the plans; what do they want, a discount on the next one?"

North Star just huffed and spent a few minutes gazing into the cushions of her couch before looking up at her companion. "I know, I know, Petunia, but you know I can't help it! Those insufferable ponies call my work 'a bunch of organised scribbling.' _Scribbling_! The greedy lot can usually barely scratch a straight line in the dirt, and they have the nerve to call architectural drafting 'scribbling?' I work for every bit I get, and if they don't appreciate having to pay for the best damned architect in the city," she gestured towards her cutie mark of a drawing compass, "Then they can go pay for a cheaper one!"

Petunia nodded in sympathy, refilling her cup of wine from a nearby pitcher before handing it to one of Fleur's servants, "Take that to North. She looks like she needs it." Once both their cups were refilled, she continued. "I feel for you; after all the horticultural pursuit isn't one looked on too favourably in this city," she muttered, "Oddly enough, since they sure love their gardens here, but most of these aristocrats can't be bothered to respect the ponies that make them _grow_ and _flourish._ " She froze for a moment, before glancing over at Fleur with an apologetic smile, "Present company excepted, of course." Her smile slowly sank back into a frown as she looked down into her cup, then back at Fleur. "But... come on, my Lady, you have to get tired of it too, I mean? The old farts and their constant belittling, the snobby looks, the stupid muttering behind our backs? It's got to be-"

Fleur delicately coughed, shooting Petunia a stern look, and the other mare fell silent. She looked Petunia in the eye, before opening her mouth to speak, "Yes, it is... unpleasant to deal with, especially with my modelling career being a 'not noble enough' background for some of the stodgier ones to count me as an aristocrat, wealth or not." She shrugged, keeping her face a neutral mask of indifference, "Still, need I remind you, a good number of my friends and allies are nobles. Night Light, Twilight Velvet, Octavia Melody, Primrose, Purple Stripe, Prince Blueblood-"

North and Petunia were just barely able to cover up their snickers by turning them into a fits of coughing, intentionally avoiding the glare Fleur threw their way. "No offence, my Lady, but Blueblood usually has one of three things on his mind; power, sex," North gestured towards the currently-occupied bedroom off the atrium for emphasis, "and drink. All three together, if the rumour of him hosting Bacchic rites in his villa are anything to go by."

Petunia flushed, trying to look anywhere but at the two other mares. "Actually, they're quite true. I've been to one of his parties, and believe me when I say they make Purple Stripe's look _chaste._ " Her ears folded down in embarrassment at the surprised looks Fleur and North were shooting her. "What? I'm not one of Lady Camina's sworn virgin priestesses, so don't look too shocked. I'm an adventurous mare, after all."

North broke the moment of silence with a chuckle, while Fleur filled a cup of wine for herself before passing the pitcher back to North. "So you are, Petunia; I do not doubt that." She offered the pitcher to the other mare. "More wine, dear?"

"Thank you."

The three of them lay there, quietly sipping from their cups, before North started the conversation back up in her usual direct manner, "So, how was Blueblood between the sheets anyway? If rumour's anything to go by, he's supposed to be very... _vigorous._ "

To her credit, Petunia did not spit out her wine; as she had prudently drank just _before_ that question was asked. Instead, she flushed even redder, shakily setting her cup down before she could spill any. "How would I even-"

"You just admitted to going to one of his orgies, dear."

The horticulturist pony squirmed in her chair, North fighting down a fit of giggles at Petunia's expense while Fleur took the more delicate approach. "Don't mind her any, Petunia; you know how... blunt she can be about these matters."

"It's... it's alright," Petunia took a deep breath, her face returning to its usual violet hue. "Actually..." she grinned sheepishly, "He was pretty... vigorous. A bit smaller than usual, but by my ancestors, I definitely _felt_ all of it, for sure. I kid you not; it took him nearly three hours to run out of stamina. And he was with probably a fair number of the guests that night besides me. I didn't stay for the second and third nights, I was so exhausted."

Fleur nodded, thinking back to some of the stories Fancy had told her of Blueblood's stamina. "So Fancy told me." A small grin made its way onto her muzzle, "He didn't say he was a little undersized, though."

North snorted, "Of course not. He'd want nothing more than for you to think the utmost best of his ' _dear_ friend Blueblood', despite his vices. Probably hoping you'd actually _agree_ to his offer to join those two in bed one of these days. How he ever took a shine to that fussy little lecher, I'll never know..."

Fleur paled at the thought; while she loved Fancy dearly, she had little regard for Blueblood, his political position and very close friendship with her lover aside. Unlike some of the more adventurous members of her class, it was a requirement for her to at least _like_ somepony before thinking of bedding them. She knew Fancy felt the same; she just didn't understand what he liked in the stallion, Fleur thought to herself with a just a hint of envy.

Before she could start brooding on how to deal with the ambitious fop of a prince, the door to the previously occupied bedroom swung open, the object of her thoughts appearing on the other side of the doorway, with a grin so smug Fleur had the urge to smack it off his face. From behind him appeared two of Fleur's servants, Rosemary and Star Bright, the two of them sporting the usual giddy, painfully wide smiles Blueblood tended to leave in his wake. "My Lady Fleur! Your beauty outshines the brightest lilies of the field, as always," he said with a sweeping bow, somehow managing to look dignified despite being sweaty and just a tad bedraggled, not even mentioning the other bodily fluids probably on him.

Fleur just gave him a flat look, "Go clean yourself up, Your Highness, before you speak with me. Can you not spend a _day_ without seducing one or more of my servants? Are the guests at your... parties not enough variety for you?"

Blueblood just gave her that irritatingly charming smile that almost never seemed to leave his muzzle. "Not my fault all the mares in your household are distractingly attractive." He shot the exiting flank of Star Bright a rather appreciative look. "The stallions, too."

Fleur rolled her eyes, not in a mood to deal with his antics yet. "Don't I know it," she muttered, before slipping on her mask of indifference once more, "At any rate, you need to get cleaned up before Fancy gets home, and before Night Light and Twilight Velvet arrive to head to the party tonight."

"True enough," Blueblood said, making his way out of the atrium and towards the back of the house. She breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the door shut behind him, turning back towards her guests, who had remained silent the whole time. "Well, don't just lay there; it's time for us to get ready! You left your dresses in the guest bedrooms, right?" The two of them nodded, and promptly headed off to change.

With a sigh, Fleur lay back onto her couch on her back, looking up at the patterns on the ceiling. It wasn't that she disliked Blueblood because he slept with Fancy; if that was the case, she wouldn't get along with Hoity, South Pole or even Night Light and Velvet; well, at least before that one night the Senator, his wife, and Fleur had spent together after Fleur's birthday party, anyway. It was more that... well, she was worried. She knew Blueblood and Fancy's friendship went back years before they'd even met each other, back at their Hoofton School days; but she also knew Blueblood was an ambitious power-broker, and couldn't help but wonder if, worst came to worst, Blueblood would betray Fancy if it suited his political goals. She felt tears prick at her eyes at the thought; she just didn't want him to get hurt like that...

"My brightest lily, I am home!" announced a familiar boisterous voice, Fleur's brooding quickly turning to delight. The mare nearly fell into the atrium pool in her scrabble to get to the door, but she made it with nary a hair out of place, wrapping her forehooves around the barrel of her lover as soon as he stepped into the atrium.

"Thank the ancestors you're home! After all I heard about the trouble with the Senate today, I thought you wouldn't be back from the palace in time."

Fancy returned the embrace with equal vigour, nuzzling into her shoulder. "Well, I'm home now, my dear Fleur," he said, pulling away enough for her to see his smile. "I trust Blueblood behaved himself while I was gone?"

Fleur bit back the first retort that came to mind, before settling for the second. "As much as usual; he's in the bath at the moment, of course."

"Ah," he said with a tinge of disappointment. "Oh well. I trust he didn't act too unsavoury towards _you_ , my lily?"

"No." she said with a shake of her head, her lip curling slightly. "Just him being... himself as usual."

Blueblood frowned, his eyes taking on that 'pleading' look that always managed to make her heart (and Blueblood's, she suspected) melt, at least for the time being. "Alright then." He turned away for a moment, in thought, before his eyes widened. "Oh, by the way; I have something for you I picked up from the market." He opened his saddlebags, levitating his gift for her out so she could see it. "I hope you like it."

A brilliant gold pendant in the shape of a, well, _Fleur-de-lys_ hung on a chain in front of her, set with sparkling little white gemstones. Her eyes watered slightly, before she pulled Fancy in for a passionate kiss, to his pleasant surprise. "Well, that answers that question!" he said with a breathless chuckle once she pulled away.

The two of them simply gazed at each other for a few moments, before a cough caught their attention. "Erm, Your Grace, My Lady? It's time for you two to get ready for the party."

Fancy nodded, sharing one last nuzzle with Fleur before going their separate ways. "Of course it is. And may it be a damned fine party."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

A few hours later, Fleur, Petunia, North Star, Fancy and Blueblood were gathered in the atrium, and all were quite ready, thank you very much. There was one thing missing; well, two, rather. Night Light and Twilight Velvet.

Fortunately, the five of them would not have to wait long. Soon enough, the sound of rapping on the door made it to their ears, followed by a muffled call of, "Open up! It's us, Fleur!" With a smile of delight, Fleur signalled to one of her servants, and the door was practically flung open as Fleur and Fancy found themselves with their forelegs full of a certain pair of ponies. "Fleur!"

"Fancy!"

"Are you two ready for tonight?" the two responded practically in unison, despite their muzzles being almost buried in the shoulders of the ones they'd hugged. Fleur and Fancy nodded, and the two... affectionate nobles pulled away, smoothing out their outfits quickly. They were a very spirited pair; probably what made them such a good fit for each other, their backgrounds aside. Twilight Velvet was of an old patrician family, the House of Vesperae, in contrast to the relatively nouveau-riche Sparkles. Still, the two made quite a pair. Night Light's meeker, more controlled scholarly demeanor matched well with Twilight's exuberance, usually bringing out in her a measure of sobriety she usually lacked; likewise, as tonight, her exuberance encouraged him to be more open and carefree as well.

"Yes, we are," Fancy nodded, giving Night Light an affectionate peck on the cheek while Fleur did the same with Twilight.

"Shall we go then? I'd like to get there before sundown," uttered Blueblood, immaculate in his usual black waistcoat and deep blue bow tie. Fleur resisted the urge to smack him, her face remaining curved in a smile.

"I think we shall. Onward then, my friends!"

With that, the seven of them made their way outside, the door swinging shut behind them.

* * *

It was looking to be a fun night in the villa of Purple Stripe, esteemed, if often-absent, member of the Senate. Beautiful mares in bright, flowing swathes of translucent material danced about everywhere, taking a spare moment or two to flirt with the guests. Nobleponies and citizens of various stations mingled, laughed and chatted amongst themselves, all whilst drinking heavily from their glasses. A haze of sweet incense mingled with _shisha_ and hemp smoke hung over the entire inside of the house, drifting out the opened windows. The music of violins, flutes, drums and an oud could be heard floating through the air, a small group of musicians clustered by the atrium pool. All in all, it was looking to be a great party.

 _Life is good,_ Purple Stripe thought as he observed the proceedings from his couch on the far end of the dining room, very glad for everything to be going smoothly. The chairs had been moved out of his sumptuous dining room, as per usual for an informal occasion. Comfortable couches were placed along the length of the long table, upon which his guests reclined as they ate.

And ate they did. He had spared no expense to provide food, hiring more cooks than usual to prepare enough food for over a hundred guests. Fresh fruit, tarts, pies, custards, soups, stews, salads, sandwiches; all were piled high upon the table, as servants armed with trays of cups and jugs of wine moved from pony to pony, making sure no one was thirsty. Purple Stripe signaled to one of his servants, who quickly refilled his own with wine. He took a deep gulp from his gem-encrusted goblet, and leaned his head back onto the couch with a sigh of contentment, slipping off his red robe and handing to a servant to leave himself in his dress shirt and waistcoat. _It may be an informal occasion, but damned if I'm going to be less well-dressed than my guests. I'm the host, for Celestia's sake!_

The other guests were attired with varying degrees of formality. Most had come in a simple dress or waistcoat, others wore dress shirts or more formal gowns, and at least one had arrived in a burgundy coat, waistcoat, and day cravat (Hoity Toity, of course; the designer never turned down a chance to show off his own designs.). Some wore nothing, but since this was normal for most ponies, he let it slide. After all, it was supposed to be somewhat informal.

 _The guests certainly seem to be enjoying themselves, anyway,_ he thought with a happy smile. They were certainly chatty, anyway, as wine had a proclivity to loosening tongues, even in the most awkward of company. Senators and Tribunes alike (even those who'd been brawling earlier) swapped stories over their cups of wine (and various other beverages), laughing uproariously over jokes that would be entirely inappropriate if the setting were more formal. Minor magistrates, celebrities, city councilors, and even important clergy involved themselves as well, some flirting with the dancing mares, some flirting with each other, and some going off and finding a private spot to get... _busier_ , he presumed. Purple grinned as he spotted a lovely yellow-coated priestess of Sapientia chatting away with one of the dancers, their conversation audible from across the table.

"So... priestesses don't have to be celibate, do they?" the light-pink earth pony mare asked.

"Oh, no, no, no!" the priestess giggled, brushing her light blue mane out of her eyes. "That's the Caminal Virgins, and only during their tenure. Other than that, no celibacy necessary for them; and not at all for the rest of us. Why do you ask?" She batted her eyelashes slightly at the other mare, causing her to blush slightly, and not from the wine this time.

"N-no reason. Well... back in Bitalia, my parents' home, all the priests have to be celibate." The mare said, a trace of a Tuscaneighse accent coming through in her voice.

"Bitalia... oh, right, the.. Foreign faith?"

"Correct, _Signora_. _La Chiesa_."

"And you? I don't suppose the, uh, _Chiesa_ is incredibly fond of your chosen profession."

"I... kind of still am, though I've... how do you say? Fallen off the _vagone_?"

The priestess chuckled loudly, almost upsetting her wine as she turned onto her side on the couch. "I can see that. Don't worry, fallen off the wagon or not, I'm sure your Gods- sorry, God- is still fond of you. He'd have to, to create such a lovely flower as yourself." She smiled, and brushed a hoof along the other mare's cheek.

The mare's pink muzzle turned bright scarlet, and she stuttered out, "O-oh, _grazie_ for the.. compliment, but, really, I-I'm not _that_ pretty, _S-signora_..."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, dear. And there's no need to call me Signora! I'm no Lady, after all. Call me Poppy Fields, or Poppy for short."

"Lucia. Lucia diSpezia..."

With a smirk, Purple Stripe turned away from their conversation and back to his own thoughts. Like Lucia, he was of (though distant) Bitalian descent, as was obvious in his house's interior design. The frescos and mosaics that decorated the walls and floors of the house were of Bitalian artistry, as were the heavy, luxurious velvet curtains in front of his windows. However, unlike Lucia, his family had adopted the Equestrian Faith long ago instead of the Romane _Chiesa_ , worshipping the distant Harmony and her many divine viceroys, the _Athanatoi_ , in charge of various spheres of life: Sapientia, Lady of Wisdom; Bellona, Lady of War; Gaia, Lady of the Earth; Concordia, Lady of Peace; Mercurius, Lord of Trade; Bacchus, Lord of Merriment, and many others.

 _Speaking of the Athanatoi, I do believe another guest of mine may be distraught if I'm not there to greet him._ With that, Purple Stripe rose from his couch and headed towards the atrium of the house. It was large, but he had made the most of the space; the usual pool of water was sunken into the tiled floor at the center of the room, just beneath a mosaic of seaponies on the ceiling. At the far end of the atrium was the doors to the house, and opposite them, the home shrine to the _Athanatoi_ and the _Lares,_ his ancestral spirits, against the wall. The cabinet that held their images was wide open; only some of the statues were in their proper places, however, as the statue to Bacchus stood on a pedestal by the door, (since any party was automatically under his patronage) on whose head was draped a small wreath of pink flowers. Purple smiled, then touched his hoof to his lips and extended it towards the statue, the proper salute to the _Athanatoi_ , just as a loud knock sounded on the door.

With a smile, he rushed to the door and opened it with his magic, letting it swing open. "Welcome, welcome friends! So glad you could join us!"

Seven ponies stepped through the open doorway, all dressed as well as possible for the occasion.. "Lord Purple. A pleasure, as always." Fancy Pants said with a smile, giving a curt, formal bow in greeting.

"And you, Your Grace." He looked towards the other members of the group, giving them a low nod in turn. "Lady Fleur, Prince Blueblood, Lord Night Light, Lady Twilight, and Misses Petunia and North Point. A pleasure as always." He gestured towards the atrium. "Please, come on in."

The six of them nodded in return, heading inside. "You are too kind, my dear Purple," said Fleur sweetly, giving the Senator a kiss on the cheek, copied shortly by Fancy and Blueblood.

Purple chuckled. "Don't worry, my dears; it's looking to be a good party so far. You'll definitely be pleased!"

"I should hope so," said Blueblood with a smirk. "After all, your parties are the only ones usually compared to mine!"

"Just remember I was busy hosting the Bacchic rites when you were still in royal diapers, Your Highness." Purple said with a gleam in his eye.

"Of course." Blueblood said, following Fancy and the others out of the atrium, and towards the dining room.

Purple was a reasonably laid-back, jovial unicorn stallion, compared to the usually stuffy Canterlot patricians whose starched shirts were as stiff as their smiles outside the Senate house. A lot of that had to do with his family, probably. New or less-notable aristocrats usually had a lot more direct contact with common ponies than their somewhat isolationist old patrician counterparts, and were thus warmer and more informal by influence. Bellona's breath, but _Bitalian clergy_ were less uptight than the 'old family' aristocrats sometimes.

Which was one of the primary reasons for hosting this feast in the first place. The other was to keep his social standing up, of course, but his main reason was simply to help his fellow elite loosen up, for heavens' sakes. He had to admit it; he just loved watching ponies just relax and enjoy themselves; some might even call him an R-rated version of the Element of Laughter.

And a good thing, too; after all, the tension that had exploded in the Senate earlier showed quite plainly the whole lot needed a good dose of revelry to make them more amicable. _And so far, it's been working fabulously,_ he mused as he headed back towards the dining room himself.

The sight that greeted him upon his return was quite amusing. Night Light, Twilight Velvet and Blueblood laid on their respective couch, conversing heartily with Fancy Pants, Fleur De Lis and Petunia. Meanwhile, the flirty discussion between the priestess, Poppy Fields, and the dancer had one more added to it, with the presence of North Star on the couch next to Poppy.

This was definitely looking to be a very good night for them all.

* * *

"...and so, she nearly fell into the atrium pool, all bleary-eyed and disheveled, from... what was it again, dear?"

"I was at an orgy, mother," said Octavia nonchalantly, taking a long draw from her hookah before blowing a smoke ring in the general direction of the windows.

"An orgy, right." Said Atia of House Philharmonica, looking slightly envious of her daughter before hiding it with a smile. She turned towards her son, who was almost identical to her daughter, save for the shorter mane and more masculine muzzle. "Octavian, say something witty. You always seem to have something good for the occasion."

"Hmm?" the grey colt, almost out of his teens, looked up from his book completely lost. "Erm, sorry mother. I was reading about this rather fascinating incident during the First Hooflene War with Minos and the other city states of-"

"Enough of that," Atia rolled her eyes, looking towards Fancy and Fleur with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that; he's always been the bookish type. I bring him to a party, and he finds Purple's _library_ the most fascinating thing."

"Well, _I've_ always found reading a wonderful hobby, especially when in too crowded an atmosphere, when I was his age," quipped North Star, exchanging an understanding look with the teenager.

"She's right, you know," said Fancy, taking a sip from his cup. "After all, we administrators would be unable to rule without doing plenty of research on the issues we need to tackle. Take the whole granary kerfluffle; pardon me saying it, ma'am, but the fact that the majority of the grain supply should _not_ be several miles from the city, in case of unrest or famine, should be obvious. Nevermind the trouble of having to sell the former granaries themselves; we can lease them to farmers along the river valley, and have our chain of supply even _closer_ to the city so we don't have to spend so much on transport."

"But this is _Canterlot_! Surely the presence of _agricultural_ buildings would put a damper on the tourist industry?" asked Upper Crust, delicately plucking grapes from a large bunch in a bowl before popping them into her mouth.

Fleur scoffed. "I don't think a few granaries within view of the city limits will discourage tourism unless the millers' union suddenly decides to go on strike; which I doubt will happen anytime soon." She nodded towards the leaders of said union further down the table, one of them pounding the table in mirth at a joke Petunia told.

"What a dreadful noise the plebeians make when they're happy." muttered Jet Set, his nose upturned as he pointedly ignored the same exuberance expressed by a good number of nobles as well.

"This is _music_ compared to the possibilities. Just you wait until some populist demagogue gets them baying for our blood," said Golden Gavel darkly, not noticing the way North Star, Fleur and Arpeggio bristled at the comment.

"I think if a few of the more useless members of our class disappeared suddenly, the sky might yet still be above us and the earth still below. A shocking idea, I know," whispered, of all people, Atia, shooting daggers towards Upper Crust and Golden Gavel. She might be a patrician as well, but she was about as fond of the staunch traditionalists as Fancy and Purple were. After all, the bad grapes tended to spoil the whole bushel, in the eyes of the common folk. And made _her_ look bad, by extension. The matriarch of the ancient House of Philharmonica simply couldn't _stand_ the idea of looking bad.

North Star and Arpeggio nodded fervently in agreement, sharing a look of intense distaste before biting into a pear and an orange, respectively, to conceal their expressions. Fleur just stared over at Golden with a slight frown, anger boiling just beneath the surface.

 _This_ was why there was so much tension between the nobility and the plebeians; and oh, how she despised it. The traditionalist patricians all acted like the lower classes were like tame pets, at best; at worst, they were snarling animals in need of control, just waiting to snap at the nearest hoof if angered. Likewise, the common people tended to think of the nobility as benevolent, if distant, philanthropists like Fancy or Purple at best; or, at worst, doddering old fools like Golden Gavel that probably wished Equestria had serfdom like other countries. That, at least, was a system that had been immediately abolished once Princess Celestia and Luna ascended all those centuries ago.

Of course, the new gentry and nobles that had been honoured with titles for their services to their country in one capacity or another, like Fleur or the Sparkles, were starting to turn the tide in the favour of the people.

Fleur felt a hoof on her shoulder, and turned her head to see Fancy looking at her with concern. She sighed, closed her eyes, and slowly counted to ten before opening them again, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she surveyed the rest of the partygoers. No fights had sprung up, thankfully; in fact, most of the nobles seemed to getting along well with the other guests. She could hear some of the conversations from down the table quite clearly, catching more than a few snippets.

"Today's display was actually a good idea; now, if they took that idea and adopted it to the _Griffon_ style of politics, I would certainly attend more often!" said Duke Silversaddle of Appleloosa, obviously rather cheerfully drunk. "They settle their parliamentary disputes in _single combat_ ; the losing opponent has to vote the same way as the challenger. My sister's always telling me to get more involved in politics, and I keep telling her I will when I have the family's senate seat, and when it gets more interesting!"

"Yes, because it's not like our family hasn't been in politics for over _300_ years, after all. Silly me, thinking you might continue the legacy and do something beside manage those apple orchards of yours," his sister, Lady Ambrosia, said with a sneer.

Fleur shoved down the anger rising to the surface again, taking a breath as she buried her head in her hooves. Well, at least the _other_ guests were having fun.

 _The night might still get better from here,_ she thought. _Now, if I can just enjoy myself without blurting out something in anger later, everything should go smoothly._

She hoped, at least.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

As the night waxed on, Fleur, Fancy and Blueblood found themselves moving in a smaller room off the atrium, as well as a couple dozen other of the guests, to get away from the crowded bustle of the rest of the party. The usual couches were set up around the room, with about two or so ponies to each one. Unfortunately, Blueblood and Fancy found themselves at a table directly across from Golden Gavel and Upper Crust.

Other than that, though, it seemed to be going well. The wine was flowing freely, the _shisha_ smoke was sweet and not too thick yet, and the food was as fine as ever. The company, however, was getting nastier by the minute.

"So, your Grace, how're you and your... companion doing tonight? Well, I hope? After all, this is quite the splendid party." Golden lay on his stomach, delicately taking short draws from a nearby hookah and aiming the smoke so that it drifted towards Fancy's direction.

"We're doing fine, thank you." replied Fancy graciously, ignoring the small clouds of aromatic smoke floating lazily towards his nose. He looked around the room with an admiring smile, taking in the gorgeous mosaic tiles on the floor, the bright paintings on the ceiling and walls, the rich velvet curtains that hung across the windows. "Purple really keeps this place pristine."

Golden snickered, setting the hookah hose aside, and rose from his couch, walking towards the middle of the room. "Yes, he does." He said, disdain seeping into his tone. "Not a spot of dirt anywhere. Shame the same can't be said for you, eh?"

The whole room went silent dead, eyes darting back and forth between each other. Fleur stiffened, then rose from her couch, followed by Blueblood. What did he know, they both wondered. They both knew Fancy didn't do anything Golden could use as blackmail. Did he? Fleur readied herself to help her lover make a hasty exit if anything nasty went down.

Fancy, however, remained lying on his couch, his brow furrowed. "Golden, what in Equestria are you talking about? I don't _have_ any dirt for you to find."

"What about your little affair with Blueblood?" He said smugly, eyeing the Chancellor with narrowed eyes. He glanced over at Fleur, "Terribly sorry you had to find out like this, but your dear Fancy has been screwing the royal fop over here."

Fancy froze, then let a smirk spread across his muzzle. "That's not a _secret_ , you moron. Fleur is perfectly aware of what I do with Blueblood behind closed doors. And likewise, I'm perfectly aware of who she sees behind closed doors." He nodded towards Fleur, who returned it with a vicious smile in Golden's direction. "And everypony else knows Blueblood is one of my oldest friends, as well as about my public relationship with Fleur. Look around you! Nopony is surprised." Golden glanced around to find his audience mostly wearing a rather bored expression. "This is the sort of thing that's only sensational to second-rate tabloids, not a cause for national scandal. You have _nothing_ on me."

Golden Gavel was agape, floundering for a response. After spending several seconds looking like a dying fish, he managed to point a hoof towards the grey mare sitting in the corner. "Maybe not you, but what about her? She fucked her brother, after all!"

Octavia choked on her glass of wine, the glass falling to the floor and rolling away, leaving a trail of dark red behind. "How the _fuck_ did you-" She stopped at the looks the other nobles in the room sent her, ranging from shock to indifferent surprise to mild disgust, and shrank back against her couch.

The moment of silence was broken by Atia's indignant screech. "You did _what_ with Octavian?!"

The older mare practically flew off her couch, stopping until she was barely a few feet away from her daughter. "I can't believe you, you, you... stupid little hussy! He's just barely of age!"

Octavia finally seemed to recover her voice, her eyes narrowing with anger as she glared at her mother. "Don _'_ t look at me like that, mother! What with your evening visits from Lieutenant Midnight Blossom? What about the time you suggested Octavian seduce _his cousin_ to get a closer alliance with his branch of the family? You're hardly a paragon of purity yourself!"

Atia kept the same indignant expression, clearly unruffled by the accusations. "First of all, said Lieutenant is a _Lunar Guard officer_ , not some common infantry grunt from the provinces _._ She's a perfectly respectable lover, after all, as well as a valuable ally. As for the little debacle with Silver Brooch, need I remind you his branch of the family was trying to _destroy us_ , so forgive me for making a suggestion to flirt with _incest_ instead of potential _parricide_. As it is, we're lucky that little feud was nipped in the bud before it could escalate."

"The reason that feud existed in the first place is because you humiliated his mother in front of half the city!"

"Well, it's not _my_ fault the bitch overreacted! I was just trying to put her in her place as a lesser member of-"

"Overreacted? Mother, you had ' _Ruby Brooch is a whore_ ' graffitied over every plebeian restaurant, club, and squalid little dive bar in the city!"

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it? She's not a _patrician_ , she's just a rich whore with a longer pedigree than her butler's cock-"

Fleur cut them off, rising from her seat with a scowl. " _Atia, Octavia_. Do us a favour and kindly shut up. We have worse problems than your family squabbles." Octavia almost immediately quieted, while Atia made a show of attempting to protest, before finally settling down with a beady glare. "Thank you." She turned to the stallion who had revealed the secret, and began slowly clapping her hooves together. "Congratulations Gavel, you've just revealed your trump card to the entire room before you could use it to launch a scandal. How tremendously stupid of you. Tell me, how exactly were you planning to _prove_ this happened? How much do you think it's _really_ going to hurt us?"

Golden Gavel sneered, eyeing Fleur as if she was a miniscule piece of dirt to be swept from the floor. "I have proof. I paid Atia's cook to get information on anything sordid, and he delivered."

"Damn that bastard unicorn! He'll be lucky if I don't use his horn as a strap-"

"Atia, _quiet_. This is not the time."

"Listen, you jumped-up pleb, will you let me be angry for five sec-"

" _No, you may not_." Fleur commanded, shooting Atia another glare until the mare sat back down, looking sulky. "Right then." She turned to Golden once again. "Alright, so you can prove it. What does it matter? Incest between patricians? We have a half-drunken, sex-addled pervert as a prince— don't look at me like that, Blueblood, you know it's true— and he's _still_ somehow competent and liked. Do you honestly think a minor scandal is going to break the coalition in the Senate? Because if so, you must assume the people are just as indulged in snobbish prudery as the rest of you."

"It's not the _people_ I care about. It's the rest of the _Senate_. Tell me, how many do you think are going to be on your side once I reveal the _rest_ of the dirt on your coalition, hmm? Oh, and I _know_ there is enough."

"We'll just have to respond with dirt of our own, then," responded Blueblood, looking surprisingly cheerful. "By the way, how's that wife of yours doing, Golden? Swan Song, if I remember right?" His smile had just the tiniest hint of menace in it. "Pretty hat, gorgeous flank, is usually left at home while you sneak out to Rosy's 'House of Earthly Delights' in a little corner of Point Road?"

Golden stiffened, glaring daggers at Blueblood. "Maybe it was somepony who looked curiously like me you found. You never know what kind of degenerates would impersonate nobility for sordid deeds. Plebs, pretending to be ponies of quality! Funny how these things do happen."

"Yes, how _funny_." Blueblood wasn't laughing. He just kept the same cheerful little smile with a touch of poison in his eyes, boring into Golden's. "I think you'll find what counts as ponies of quality can vary greatly."

Golden refused to shrink from Blueblood's unwavering gaze. "Yes, it does. After all, I'm speaking to you as an equal, as if you were, in fact, a stallion of quality, and not a drink-sodden, sex-crazed wastrel that makes whatever funds dearest Auntie gives you disappear."

Fleur saw what was likely about to happen, as did Fancy, and quickly moved forward to Blueblood's side, in case he tried to do anything stupid. The prince's eyes were closed, as if trying to shut out what he was hearing. Golden saw the opportunity, and just continued with vicious glee. "You are certainly not without accomplishments, of course. After all, our navy was sorely in need of yet more undisciplined sots who can almost figure out which way to aim a ship without crashing it. I do remember your crowning achievement was capturing those pirates off the coast of Manehatten. Well done! You managed to do what any captain with a working sense of direction could, and got rewarded with a nice little office in the Admiralty building. I hope the lack of sailors in your office is suiting you- too much masculinity in such a small space must've been simply _dreadful_." Golden tilted his head a little, his smug, pristine smile begging to have a gap or two in it. "But then again, the feminine role has always suited you better, hasn't it?"

If Fleur and Fancy hadn't been at his side, Blueblood would've most likely ended up introducing Golden Gavel to the gourmet taste of horseshoes and floor tiles. As it was, he made no sound, his body trembling, his eyes still clenched shut. He wasn't quite ready to explode, but he was pretty damned close.

Fleur found herself, for once, feeling bad for the stallion, and instinctively a hoof through his mane. "Don't worry." she muttered. "We'll make sure to give him a taste of his own medicine later." Blueblood still said nothing, but his trembling soon ceased, though she could tell he was still tense. She glanced over at Fancy, who looked torn between hugging Blueblood and blasting Golden across the room. Before she could get another word in, Golden made the wonderfully idiotic choice to open his mouth again.

"Thank you for proving my point, your Highness. I wasn't expecting dear Lady Fleur to be giving you any comfort, but I suppose the prettiest whores tend to stick together-"

Blueblood's eyes snapped open, eyeing Golden Gavel with nigh-unbridled fury. "You've got a way with words, Lord Gavel. It'd be a pity if your wagging tongue found itself silenced. Tell me, do all 'stallions of quality' try to upset their rivals like a petty schoolyard bully with an inferiority complex, or is it just you?"

"Inferiority complex? I'm not the one upset by a few little words. Surely a stallion of such an ancient lineage as yours can deal with a little conversation without making a spectacle of yourself." He glanced around at the ponies surrounding them, who had by now moved to the far corners of the room to watch. "Well, too late for that, anyhow. My sincerest apologies."

Blueblood appeared to be readying himself to teach this... _pony_ a lesson, but only just managed to restrain himself. He closed his eyes once more, took a deep breath, and gave Golden the biggest, most blinding smile that could possibly fit his muzzle without breaking a jaw. "Very well. I see I have made a spectacle of myself, and for that, I apologise. I think I'll be leaving soon- the air here has gotten far too stifling." Golden sported a victorious grin, knowing he had humiliated Blueblood so badly he had to leave, and raised a cup in a mocking toast. But the prince was not done yet.

"Before we go, allow me to offer you a hug, as a sign of peace. No hard feelings, eh, my Lord?"

Golden Gavel froze, his eyebrows raised suspiciously. Fleur smiled to herself, watching the prince carefully. Blueblood wasn't going to attack Golden in full view of the public, she knew that much, but this was still fishy. Well, she'd find out what his game was soon enough.

Golden nodded, still on his guard. "Very well. You may do so, your Highness." _But I'm going to make sure there's no knife to stab in my back,_ was the unspoken implication.

Blueblood simply smiled and walked up to Golden, pulled him into an overly-enthusiastic hug, and leaned close to his ear. " _You dare humiliate me like that again_ ," he whispered, squeezing the other stallion's barrel tighter for extra emphasis, " _And you'll find yourself humbled twice as much. Do you understand me_?" With that, Blueblood released him, the same painful-looking smile on his face as he looked at a shaken Golden. "Good evening, Lord Gavel. May fortune smile on you."

"G-good evening to you, too, Prince Blueblood." Golden stammered out, turning away and taking a quick gulp from his cup. With his head raised high, Blueblood turned around and headed towards Fleur and Fancy, "Let's go, if you don't mind. I think I've overstayed my welcome." He gave Fleur a small smile. "After all, we _prettiest whores,"_ He spat the words out with enough venom to poison a cobra, "Must stick together, eh?" Fleur nodded, sharing a brief look with Blueblood. It was a look that said _Somepony's going to pay for that, and I'll help you do it._

Fancy finally took the opportunity to move to Blueblood's side, his eyes slightly red. "Blue, I'm so sorry for not saying anything. I didn't know he was going to do that, and when he _did_ , I-"

Blueblood raised a hoof to Fancy's lips, a few tears prickling at his eyes but refusing to spill over. "I know. It's not your fault, it's that bastard Golden. Don't blame yourself for this. Just.. let's go, okay? And tell the Sparkles, the Philharmonicas, anypony friendly the party's being moved to your house, okay? Think you can manage a dozen or so guests tonight? I'd hate to impose, but I..." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "I just need a _fucking_ drink, some good hemp, and pleasant company that's not going to bitch about me behind my back, alright?"

Fancy looked at Fleur with his tell-tale pleading expression, glancing between her and Blueblood. "Come on, he's had a rough night. Surely we could-"

"No. It's nearly ten o' clock! How are we going to make arrangements this late for a whole party?"

"Please, my lily? I'll make the arrangements myself, and it'll be a small party. You don't need to trouble yourself with it."

"Fine, but _you're_ paying for it." Fleur huffed. Secretly, she was happy the party was being moved to a much more friendly atmosphere; but at the same time, she didn't want to have to deal with the arrangements of food, drink and music this time of night. And she was still smarting from being called a whore just from comforting Blueblood for a moment. After all, she wasn't exactly _fond_ of Blueblood, even if her lover was.

Still, her sense of kindness won out, and she offered Blueblood a restrained smile. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry that happened to you. Nopony should have to put up with that insufferable little git."

He gave her a lopsided grin in return, with a little bow added for extra effect. "Not even me, eh? Thank you, Lady Fleur. You are, as always, a lily among thorns."

She wrinkled her nose, but didn't brush off the compliment as usual. Instead, she just gave a small nod of gratitude. "You're too kind."

Out of nowhere, Blueblood's muzzle broke into a magnificently wicked grin. "Not as kind as I should, I think. Golden ought to have checked his cup before he drank again."

Fancy's brow furrowed, looking slightly alarmed. "Blue, you didn't...?"

"I did."

"Blue, you _idiot,_ they're all going to know it was you when he-"

"My dear Fancy, there are far more _embarrassing_ things than death, and none of them remotely lethal. Rest assured, he will not lose life or limbs at my hand. His dignity, however, is an entirely different story." He glanced back towards Golden, who was currently chatting with members of his own clique, sporting a smile menacing enough to make a timberwolf cower. "You'll find out in the morning how. For now, let's just gather up our friends and be on our way, shall we?"

With that, the three of them, with the Sparkles, the Philharmonicas, and a few others in tow, left the party to begin another one. The night was still young, after all.


End file.
